One, Two, Three
by Shirl
Summary: COMPLETED-Susan enlists Carter's help for a one-on-one lesson (written before Susan's character actually returned to the show).
1. Default Chapter

TITLE: One, Two, Three  
AUTHOR: Shirley  
RATING: PG  
KEYWORDS: JC, SL, Romance/Drama  
SPOILERS: None  
TIMELINE: Set in the near future of Valentine's Day, year 2002.  
This fic takes place five months after Susan's return to County.  
DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the characters from ER. They are  
the property of Warner Brothers, Constant C Productions, etc.  
ARCHIVE: You are welcome to download this story for your own reading,  
but please do not archive it on any website without my permission.  
SUMMARY: Susan requests John's help for a one-on-one lesson.  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story was written in response to a challenge  
issued by Teresa on her lovely little website:  
John Carter, Susan Lewis, Imagine The Possibilities...  
http://www.geocities.com/dr_susan_carter/index.html  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
John Carter eyed his dwindling stack of charts with a sense of relief.  
Another few minutes and he'd finally be done. Catching a flash of  
something odd from the corner of his eye, he was distracted from his  
paperwork by a large, furry, red heart approaching the admit desk.  
Unable to hold back a guffaw, he raised his eyes to meet Dave Malucci's  
scowling expression. The costume encased Dave's upper body, his head  
poking out at the top of the heart. Kerry had been looking for someone  
to fill the role of Happy Heart - the mascot to dispense chocolate in  
the children's ward. She'd obviously found the perfect choice.  
  
"Not a word, Carter," Dave warned, with menace in his voice.  
  
"I wasn't going to say anything," John protested, though his eyes  
glinted with humour. "Except...you look damn sexy in those red  
tights."  
  
"Shut up!" Clutching the bag of sweets more tightly, Dave hustled  
down the hallway towards the elevator.  
  
"He didn't look very happy," commented a dry, female voice.  
  
Recognizing the slightly husky tones of Susan Lewis, John grinned down  
at her. "He'll get over it, once he sees the kids."  
  
"So, you have plans for tonight?"  
  
"Nope," he answered shortly.  
  
While Valentine's Day had never been one of his favourite holidays,  
it held particularly bad memories for him ever since his attack.  
Last year he had refused to acknowledge the traditional day at all.  
He hoped to ignore it again this year but that was easier said  
than done.  
  
With another glance at Susan, he tried to recall if he'd seen or  
heard her mention someone special. He didn't think so. "What about  
you?" he asked.  
  
She didn't reply immediately, seeming to search for the right words.  
"Sort of," she said slowly. She dropped her tone to a lower level.  
"Listen, Carter, this is going to sound weird, but can you dance?"  
  
He wasn't sure if he'd heard her correctly. "Dance?"  
  
"Yeah. Formal dancing, like a waltz."  
  
"Sure. Why do you ask?"  
  
"Well, my cousin is getting married tonight and I'm one of the  
bridesmaids. I know she's planning to have us dance a waltz and  
who knows what else. I've got two left feet and I never really  
learned how to dance something like that." She smiled a little  
sheepishly. "I just don't want to make a fool out of myself."  
  
"So you want me to give you a crash course?" he guessed.  
  
"Something like that. You're off now, right?"  
  
"Yeah, I just need to sign a few charts. Um, where should we do this?"  
  
She gazed around, as if looking for inspiration. "I don't know.  
I would rather do it in private. Maybe one of the exam rooms?  
It's kind of slow right now."  
  
"Okay," he agreed. "How about I meet you in the lounge in ten minutes  
and we'll go from there?"  
  
"Great. Thanks, Carter."  
  
He watched her walk away for a moment, thinking what an odd request  
this was. It had actually been a while since he'd danced a waltz  
but he was confident his feet would naturally take over with no problem.  
It wasn't something one would forget and he'd had enough experience  
with formal social events.  
  
Susan remained somewhat of a mystery to him. He'd had a wicked crush  
on her as a med student but when she had left County, he'd gotten  
over his feelings for her fairly quickly. That was a good indication  
that he'd been experiencing nothing more than a crush.  
  
Her return to the ER this past September had been a surprise but not  
an unpleasant one. He got along with her well but they didn't talk  
as much as they used to. She seemed more quiet than she'd been in  
the past and mostly kept to herself. She never volunteered information  
about her sister Chloe, or little Susie, only venturing to say they  
were both fine, when asked. Although she appeared happy to be back  
at County, she seemed to keep her distance and kept her private life  
to herself.  
  
Finished with the paperwork at last, he headed for the lounge.  
  
***************  
  
As Susan shrugged out of her lab coat, she caught herself humming a tune.  
It took her a belated second to recognize it as "Once Upon A Dream"  
from 'Sleeping Beauty'. The Disney cartoon had been one of Susie's  
favourites. Her young niece had loved the dance scene and would  
endlessly rewind and rewatch the graceful Sleeping Beauty with her  
handsome Prince, as they glided in each other's arms.  
  
One corner of Susan's lips tugged upwards as she reflected on the  
possibility that Carter was her Prince in disguise; the man who would  
teach her to dance as effortlessly as a fairytale heroine. Yeah, right.  
  
Peering into the small, chipped mirror that was glued to the inside of  
her locker door, she made a futile attempt to fluff out her hair.  
She had let it grow past her shoulders and was overdue for a cut.  
Briefly considering whether she should try to touch up her makeup,  
she decided to wait until she got to the church. Knowing her cousin,  
she'd have at least one person roaming around with a full cosmetic  
kit and a ready set of hot rollers.  
  
Glancing to the side, she regarded the dress wrapped in clear, protective  
plastic with a doubtful eye. While she liked the deep shade of red that  
reminded her of aged wine, she still wasn't convinced that the style  
suited her. The high, square neckline with short, little spaghetti  
straps were fine, but she just wasn't a satin kind of woman. To top  
it off, the train of the dress was overly long and that forced her to  
wear heels. She hated wearing heels. It would take all of her  
concentration to remain upright while walking, never mind dancing.  
  
Hearing someone enter the lounge, she closed the locker door and spun  
around. John stood before her, looking a little uncertain. "Hey,"  
she said in greeting.  
  
"Hey. You still want to do this?"  
  
"Yeah." Looking at her watch, her eyes widened slightly. Damn, she was  
going to be late if she didn't leave soon. "Let's just do it here.  
I don't have much time now."  
  
"Sure." He tossed his lab coat onto the nearest chair. "Maybe we  
should move this table out of the way."  
  
After pushing the table and a few chairs to the side, they were ready  
to begin her lesson. She felt rather foolish asking Carter to do this  
but she tried to brush the feeling aside. If this could help her in  
any way, she would swallow her pride for a few minutes. "Okay, how do  
we start?" she asked, almost impatiently.  
  
Coming to stand in front of her, he placed her left hand on his shoulder  
and settled one of his hands on her waist. Her right hand was then  
grasped by his, their fingers entwining. "A waltz beats in time to  
three," he began. "One, two, three. One, two, three. I'll lead,  
so I'll step off first and you kind of follow along. On 'three',  
your feet should come together. Uh..." he faltered for a moment.  
"This would be easier if we had music but I guess we can just count.  
Ready?"  
  
She nodded. As soon as he said 'one', she eagerly started to move,  
bumping into his chest. "Sorry," she murmured.  
  
Looking down at her with a crooked smile, he teased, "Are you leading  
here, or am I?"  
  
"You. Let's start again."  
  
This time, she waited for him to step away first. And then she promptly  
stomped on his toe, none too lightly. As he winced, she had a sudden  
vision of trampling the feet of her unlucky dance partner and rushing  
him to the ER. "Maybe this isn't such a good idea," she sighed.  
  
"Don't give up yet. Let's try again." He started the count-off  
and they moved in unison. Although she nipped the top edge of his  
shoes a couple of times, this round progressed more smoothly.  
"Don't look at your feet," he advised. "Look at me."  
  
"But how will my feet know where to go?" When voiced aloud, she  
realized the question sounded stupid. No one danced while staring  
down at their feet. But this wasn't as easy as it looked in the movies.  
  
"Move closer to me. You have to...sort of...feel it," he stated  
with hesitation, as if he wasn't quite sure how to explain it.  
  
She edged towards him a little more closely. He bridged the  
distance even more, until they were pressed together. It was a  
gentle pressure, certainly not uncomfortable, but perhaps a little  
more intimate than she had anticipated this session would be.  
  
John had stopped counting aloud, but she continued to chant the series  
of numbers in her head. Rather than look at him, she gazed over  
his shoulder.  
  
"Relax," she heard him say. "You're all tensed up."  
  
Was she? Okay, Susan, don't think about anything. Just feel the  
rhythm flowing through you. I've never noticed before how nice  
Carter smells. Spicy and slightly musky. But not in a bad way.  
Masculine. Maybe remnants of some cologne mixed with his own scent.  
Good grief, stop thinking about how he smells! Where was I?  
Oh yeah, rhythm.  
  
"Hey, you're doing it!" John exclaimed.  
  
She snapped out of her trance with a jolt. "What?"  
  
"You're doing it. We're dancing."  
  
So they were. Somehow, her feet were moving smoothly of their own  
accord. The close confines of the area forced them to make many  
twists and turns, leaving her breathless and more than a little dizzy.  
Was it her imagination, or were they moving even faster now?  
  
"Carter, what are you doing?" she protested, feeling a surge of  
laughter tickling her throat, in spite of herself. "You're going  
too fast. Stop!"  
  
"Can't stop. I'm having too much fun."  
  
Grinning at her like a naughty kid, he continued to twirl her around.  
The dam burst and she began to giggle. As if on cue, he started to  
chuckle, quietly at first, and then building to a full-blown laughing fit.  
They were both laughing so hard, they came within an inch of crashing  
into the table. He managed to avoid it by swinging her out of the way  
at the last second. He then came to a stop so abruptly, her momentum  
threw her forward against his chest, rocking him backwards.  
  
Raising her eyes to his, her heart thumping madly from the exertion,  
she tried to keep a straight face. Then, in a swift and unexpected  
motion, her world tilted sideways. Blinking, she peered up at him,  
his nose a mere two inches from her face. In between gulps of breath,  
she rasped, "Is this a special waltz move?"  
  
"Yeah. It's called a dip."  
  
God, those eyes of his. Dark, liquid pools that shined with such  
intensity, she was almost afraid to be caught in their gaze.  
She didn't want him to probe so deeply. So why couldn't she look  
away? Neither of them were laughing anymore. "Let me up," she said  
abruptly. Slowly, she was raised back to an upright position.  
"I...I'd better go," she stammered.  
  
"Okay."  
  
Her hand was released and as he stepped backwards, she felt a tug  
on her jacket. "Whoa. Stop," she warned. The fine threads of his  
sweater were caught on the zipper of her jacket. Gingerly trying to  
unsnag it, she tugged at the small metallic clasp.  
  
"Let me try." With his much larger hands, he tried to finesse the  
material free. No luck. "I could try to really yank it, but I don't  
want to damage your jacket. Or my sweater," he admitted.  
  
"Okay. One of us is going to have to wiggle out of this."  
  
He raised an eyebrow, a comical look on his face. "Excuse me?"  
  
"I don't have time to try to get this unstuck. So get yourself out  
of the sweater. Then I'll take off the jacket and we'll deal with  
separating the two later."  
  
He gave her a baleful look, a slight whine to his voice. "Why do I  
have to go first?"  
  
She tried her best to sound convincing. Obviously, whoever went first  
would have a trickier job to get free. "Your sweater is more stretchy  
than my jacket. It'll be easier for you."  
  
"All right," he muttered.  
  
Crouching down slightly, he used both hands to pull the neckline over  
his head. After his head disappeared from sight, he next tried to  
slip his arms back through the sleeves. Susan couldn't help rolling  
her eyes. This silly predicament was going to make her even later.  
With a slight jump, she felt something brush against her breast,  
but she studiously ignored it. He was flailing around blindly in there.  
  
With a noisy gasp of air, John's head reappeared from the confines of  
the sweater and he practically bounded upwards. "Ta daaa!" he exclaimed.  
As he flung his arms out triumphantly, she noticed his glance flicker  
over her shoulder. His smile drooped into a grimace. "Oh no," he groaned.  
  
"What?" With a feeling of dread, she turned to follow his gaze. Several  
gleeful faces were grinning at her from the window in the lounge door.  
A hand was waved and snorts of laughter reached her ears. "Oh, perfect,"  
she uttered under her breath. Supporting the dangling sweater with one  
hand so it wouldn't drag on the floor, she marched across the room and  
threw open the door. "How long have you been here?" she demanded,  
addressing the guilty party. Randi, Cleo, and Haleh faced her with  
expressions that ranged from sheepish chagrin to outright mirth.  
  
Cleo spoke up first. While her tone was sincerely apologetic, there was  
no hiding the subtle crinkling of her eyes. "Sorry, this is my fault.  
I was about to come in when I saw you dancing. Then Randi walked by  
and wanted to know what I was looking at."  
  
As Susan held the door open about a foot wide, she gave a quick glance  
back to her dance instructor. John remained standing in the middle of  
the room, with arms crossed in front of him. At least he was wearing a  
sleeveless white undershirt. She had the feeling the gaggle of women  
beyond the door were disappointed they weren't able to view his naked  
chest. He did have a nice pair of muscular arms, though.  
  
Randi had the widest grin on her face, though Haleh came a close second.  
"You two make a cute couple," Randi declared, trying to peek around Susan.  
"Hey, Carter, you've got some nice moves!" she called out.  
  
"Thanks, Randi," came John's sarcastic reply.  
  
"And what do you have to say for yourself?" Susan asked her old friend.  
  
Haleh spoke in a nonchalant tone that belied the twinkle in her eye.  
"It's none of my business what you and Carter do behind closed doors."  
  
"We weren't *doing* anything," Susan protested. "He was just teaching  
me to dance."  
  
"Whatever you say, Dr. Lewis," Haleh said, with obvious laughter in  
her voice.  
  
"Is this for the wedding you told me about?" Cleo asked.  
  
Susan pounced on this explanation. "Yes! That's exactly right.  
I'm a complete klutz when it comes to dancing, so I asked Carter to  
teach me to waltz. That's all."  
  
"Can I have a private lesson too?" Randi inquired loudly.  
  
Susan was startled when John's voice boomed out above her ear.  
She hadn't noticed when he'd come to stand beside her. "Sure, ladies,  
why don't you all come in? Then we can have a group lesson, which  
would be much more fun." He spoke with mock graciousness, and looked  
as if he was both amused and annoyed at the same time.  
  
Cleo started backing away first. "Some other time perhaps. I wouldn't  
want to intrude."  
  
Randi motioned towards the sweater that remained attached to her jacket.  
"You, uh, want some help with that?"  
  
"No thanks. I can manage," Susan replied through gritted teeth.  
  
Only Haleh remained and her large eyes flitted back and forth between  
the two embarrassed faces. As the nurse erupted into peals of laughter,  
Susan felt the heat infusing her cheeks. Once Haleh began retreating  
down the hall, with shoulders shaking from the force of her gaiety,  
she slammed the door shut, nearly catching John's nose in it.  
  
Though she knew it was useless, she gave a final inane tug on the stubborn  
zipper and threw her hands up in defeat. "I don't have time for this.  
I'm just taking this thing off." The zipper was undone halfway, so that  
gave her a little room to maneuver. Thirty seconds later, she was able  
to pull it over her head, careful not to peel away the shirt underneath  
along with it. Glad to be rid of the troublesome garment, she draped  
it over a chair and turned back to her locker. She spoke quickly as  
she grabbed her coat. "Thanks for the lesson. I've gotta run and  
catch the El. Kris is going to kill me."  
  
John shivered slightly, looking cold. "Your cousin?"  
  
"Yeah. My car is in the shop so I'm travelling in style today."  
  
"I can give you a ride," he offered.  
  
She paused, seriously considering the idea. "Really? I just might  
take you up on that."  
  
"Sure, no problem. Uh, you don't have a spare sweater or anything,  
do you?"  
  
She shook her head, scanning the room for something he could borrow.  
There was nothing in sight. "Maybe you could ask someone in the ER,"  
she suggested.  
  
He was already reaching into his locker for his coat. "Nah, I'll be  
okay. I'll just turn the heat up in the car."  
  
"Here, take this at least." Grabbing her woollen blue scarf from the  
hook, she placed it around his neck.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
She started to heft a heavy bag that contained the wedding gift,  
her shoes, and some other items, but he pulled it from her hands  
and hoisted it over his own shoulder. Some things never changed.  
He'd always been a gentleman. All that remained were her purse and  
dress, and they were ready to go.  
  
Emerging from the lounge, she was grateful that none of their earlier  
audience was around. They would both be facing some teasing during  
their next shift, but she didn't have to worry about it yet. First,  
she had to get through this wedding without tottering over in her heels. 


	2. Chapter 2 - Conclusion

SEE PART 1 FOR NOTES, DISCLAIMER, ETC.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Though he wouldn't say it aloud, John still felt a little chilly. With a  
sidelong glance at his passenger, he tweaked the dial up another notch.  
As the heater responded with a warmer flow of air, he settled back in  
his seat. That was much better.  
  
Susan hadn't said much during the drive. He wondered if she was still  
embarrassed about what had happened in the lounge. From his viewpoint,  
being stared at by a group of women while in his undershirt wasn't too  
big of a deal. It's not like he'd been caught with his pants down.  
But the fact that he'd been alone with Susan put a different spin on  
things. He imagined the rumours would be flying now.  
  
The church was more out of the way than he'd expected. If she'd used  
the El, it would have taken forever. He was glad to be driving her.  
Across from the church was a fairly big parking lot, but it seemed full.  
The side streets were also lined with cars.  
  
"This is fine, Carter. Just drop me off here."  
  
"You sure? I can...hey, there's a spot."  
  
"Where?"  
  
He pointed towards an empty space in the back corner of the lot and  
swung the car around. "I'll park here and help bring your bag in."  
  
"You don't have to."  
  
"I know. But it's pretty slippery out. What if you fell and ripped  
your dress? Then where would you be."  
  
"Good point."  
  
After parking, he pushed open the door and stepped outside. He sucked  
in a breath as the icy air stung his cheeks, making him shiver. The cold  
seemed to seep straight into his bones. They quickly gathered Susan's  
stuff and made their way over to the church. He was about to start  
ascending the stairs when she stopped. "Hold on. I just remembered  
that Kris told me to go around the back. There's a big hall there,  
where the reception is going to be. I'm supposed to go in through there."  
  
The path was well-lighted and they easily found the door to the hall.  
He brushed past her to hold it open. Before she could step inside  
completely, they found themselves ambushed.  
  
"Jesus, Susie, where have you been!"  
  
Looking startled, it took Susan a moment to respond to the red-haired  
woman dressed in white. "Hello to you too. May I remind you that we're  
in church?"  
  
The woman made a face, waving one hand. "Whatever. We're not technically  
*in* the church anyway. I've tried calling your cell phone ten times."  
She finally looked in John's direction. "Who's this?"  
  
"This is Carter," Susan replied. "I mean, John Carter. We work together  
and he drove me down here."  
  
"Well, thank God for that! And I mean that literally." She clasped  
his hand in a firm handshake. "I'm Kristine. I'm getting married today."  
  
He smiled at her with genuine amusement. He had pretty much figured  
that out since she was wearing a bridal gown. "Congratulations.  
It's good to meet you."  
  
"I'm really sorry I'm late," Susan began to say, but her cousin cut  
her off.  
  
"Don't worry about it. Actually, we're still waiting for some people  
to arrive. A lot of them are coming from outside the city and I guess  
this place isn't so easy to find. Anyway, I've got bigger troubles.  
One of the groomsmen is sick. He's been running for the washroom and  
throwing up every ten minutes. Do you think it's food poisoning?"  
  
Susan tilted her head slightly. "It could be. Or it might be the flu.  
You want me to take a look at him?"  
  
"Yeah, could you? Unless..." As Kristine's voice trailed off, she  
regarded John with questioning eyes. "Are you a doctor too?"  
  
"Yes," he replied.  
  
"But he can't stay," Susan blurted out. "if that's what you're thinking.  
I'm sure he's got better things to do."  
  
"Actually, I don't have any plans," he said. Catching the look Susan  
shot him, he tried to interpret the hidden meaning. "Uh, unless you'd  
prefer that I leave."  
  
"I didn't say that," she said, sounding a little snappish.  
  
"Come on, Susie," Kristine cajoled. "You need to get dressed and  
get your hair and makeup done. Let John take a look at Malcolm."  
  
Susan sighed. "All right. If you really don't mind."  
  
Kristine led the way through the room that was decorated with the  
Valentine's Day theme in mind. Among other things, heart-shaped  
balloons bobbed around the perimeter of the room and each table was  
strewn with tiny confetti hearts. As they passed by the large table  
overcrowded with presents, Susan retrieved her bag from John and added  
her gift to the pile.  
  
They entered a hallway and came upon a young man leaning against  
the wall. He looked slightly uncomfortable, as if he wasn't used  
to wearing a suit. He straightened up as the group approached him.  
  
"How is he doing?" Kristine asked.  
  
"Not so good." He nodded towards the washroom door. "He's puking  
his guts up as we speak."  
  
"Rick, this is Dr. John Carter. He's going to check on Malcolm and  
try to help him." She turned to John. "I'm taking Susie down the  
hall to get ready. I'll be back in a little while."  
  
John motioned for Rick to go in first and he followed behind the  
younger man. They entered a small room set apart from the bank  
of washroom stalls. On one of the chairs along the wall, a man  
was slumped over with his head in his hands. Although he must  
have heard people coming towards him, he didn't bother to look up.  
Since Rick didn't say anything, John spoke first. "You must be  
Malcolm. How are you feeling?"  
  
"Like crap," came the mumbled reply.  
  
"I'll bet. My name is John Carter. I'm a doctor. Have you eaten  
anything unusual today?"  
  
With a laboured breath, Malcolm finally glanced up at him and slowly  
sat upright. His face was slightly flushed and he looked utterly  
miserable. "No, I don't think so."  
  
"What did you eat?"  
  
"Uh, some toast and cereal for breakfast. I wasn't very hungry at  
lunch so I just made a shake. Haven't eaten any dinner yet. I was  
saving my appetite for the reception here."  
  
"What kind of shake? A milkshake?"  
  
"Protein shake. It's my own recipe," he stated. "Wheat germ,  
milk, a banana."  
  
John was already starting to form a theory. "Raw egg?" he inquired.  
  
"Yeah. Why, what's wrong with that?"  
  
"Sometimes, salmonella bacteria is present in raw eggs."  
  
Malcolm's eyes widened. "You're kidding me. I've been drinking  
that shake almost every day for ten years."  
  
"Well, it's only a possibility," John conceded. "What symptoms do  
you have? Obviously you're vomiting."  
  
"Oh yeah."  
  
"Any diarrhea?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Abdominal cramps?"  
  
"A little."  
  
He considered the redness of Malcolm's face. Stepping to the man's  
side, he placed a hand on his forehead. "I can't tell if you have a  
fever," he murmured. "I think you should go to the hospital, though.  
That's the only way to know for sure if this is food poisoning.  
You might need antibiotics."  
  
"Oh, geez! Of all days for this to happen," Malcolm groaned. As a  
queasy look crossed his face, he cupped one hand to his mouth and  
bolted from the chair, heading to the stalls. Unpleasant retching  
sounds were heard moments later.  
  
John looked back at Rick. He guessed the kid was in his late teens.  
As the heaving sounds continued, Rick's expression was an almost  
humourous cross between boredom and disgust. "Are you a friend?"  
he asked.  
  
"His brother."  
  
"Do you have a car?"  
  
"To drive him to the hospital? I guess so." Rick sounded less than  
enthusiastic. "Man, he better not upchuck in the car. I just got it  
last month."  
  
John tried to suppress a smile. "Bring a few plastic bags with you,"  
he advised. "I'm going to step outside. Holler if you need me."  
  
It was a little cooler in the hallway. He was actually beginning to  
feel too warm in his winter coat. He unbuttoned it and unwound Susan's  
scarf from his neck, letting it dangle loosely. Though he was tempted,  
he didn't remove the coat completely. A few minutes later, Malcolm  
shuffled out, one hand on his younger brother's shoulder for support.  
He thanked John for his time and asked that he tell Kristine and her  
soon-to-be husband Tony, that he was going to the hospital.  
  
John leaned against the wall for a while. Then he wandered over to  
the reception hall and watched some of the activity in there. Hopeful  
that Susan might be ready by now, he returned to the spot where he'd  
last seen the two women. No luck yet. He continued to stand against  
the wall, giving the occasional person passing by a friendly smile.  
Some gave him curious looks but no one talked to him.  
  
At long last, he thought he could hear the distinct sound of her husky  
laughter. Sure enough, she emerged from around the corner with her  
cousin. He tried not to stare, but he couldn't help himself. She looked  
absolutely gorgeous. Frankly, he hadn't paid much attention to the dress  
while she'd been carrying it. Now that she was wearing it, he could  
appreciate the simple beauty of it. It hugged her slender frame in all  
the right places and the deep colour made her skin seem to glow.  
  
This was the first time he'd noticed that she had such a long and supple  
neck. Probably because he didn't recall ever seeing her with her hair  
up before. He had a thing for women's necks, especially that hollow spot  
right at the base of the throat. Dragging his gaze up from that enticing  
portion of her anatomy, he could see that she was staring back at him.  
  
"Do I look that bad?" she asked, sounding worried.  
  
"Bad?" he repeated, in disbelief. "God, no. Why would you say that?"  
  
"You're staring at me like you've never seen me before. I knew this  
dress wouldn't suit me."  
  
"Are you kidding me? You look beautiful."  
  
Kristine gave Susan a pointed look. "See? When I told you how good you  
looked, you wouldn't believe me." She glanced back at John again.  
"So how is Malcolm?"  
  
"It probably is food poisoning. Rick took him to the hospital to  
make sure."  
  
She cursed under her breath. "Will he be okay?"  
  
"I'm sure he'll be fine," John reassured her.  
  
Kristine continued to look upset. "This can't happen. It'll be bad  
luck. And the pictures won't look right."  
  
He wasn't able to follow her logic. "What do you mean?"  
  
"Four bridesmaids and three groomsmen. It's bad luck!"  
  
"Don't be so superstitious," Susan chided. "Besides, I've never heard  
of something like that being bad luck."  
  
Kristine crossed her arms, looking rather like a belligerent child.  
"You never know," she insisted. "Malcolm was supposed to be partnered  
with you. Who will you dance with now?"  
  
Although it seemed to escape Kristine's notice, John sensed Susan perking  
up at the notion that she might not have to dance. "John, what size are  
you?"  
  
He blinked at the bride. "Huh?"  
  
"Your tux size."  
  
"Why are you asking him that?" Susan demanded in a suspicious tone.  
"You're not thinking what I think you're thinking, are you?"  
  
"Well, he's already said he doesn't have any plans. What do you  
say, John? How would you like to be in my wedding?"  
  
He honestly didn't know how to respond. "Uh..." he uttered inanely.  
But he didn't have to worry. Susan seemed to be doing all the talking  
on his behalf.  
  
"This is ridiculous," she huffed.  
  
Kristine faced her with a challenge in her voice. "Why? Why is it so  
ridiculous? Give me three reasons why he shouldn't do this."  
  
Susan groaned, placing one hand against her temple. "Oh, don't do  
this. Not now. We're not twelve years old anymore."  
  
Her cousin looked ready to claim victory. "You can't. You can't come  
up with any good reasons, can you."  
  
"Here's one for you," Susan retorted. "You don't even know him.  
How can you invite someone into your wedding party that you don't  
know?"  
  
Kristine pondered the question briefly and addressed John. "You  
work with Susie, right?"  
  
"Right," he affirmed.  
  
"And are you friends with her?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
"Well, there. If he's a friend of yours, that makes him a friend  
of mine. Give me another one."  
  
"It's...it's been a long day," Susan said, sounding less confident.  
"He's tired."  
  
"You've worked just as long and you're here. Strike two. Last chance."  
  
She raised her arms up in frustration, clearly racking her brain.  
"He probably doesn't want to. He's just too polite to say that.  
Don't be afraid to say no, Carter. You don't have to do this."  
  
The ball was in his court now. He swallowed nervously. Susan  
seemed to be implying that she didn't want him to stay. Or was  
she only acting this way because she didn't think *he* wanted  
to stay? This was giving him a headache. He had to go with  
his gut feeling. And his gut was telling him that he wanted to  
remain by her side a little longer.  
  
He cleared his throat. "If you've got a spare tux, I'll try it on."  
  
***************  
  
It was a medium-sized church but it was filled to capacity. Susan  
couldn't believe she was starting to feel butterflies taking flight  
in her stomach. Her dress began to feel too tight and she squirmed  
uncomfortably.  
  
"You okay?" came a concerned voice.  
  
"Fine," she stated shortly, without looking up at him. She also  
couldn't believe the tux fit Carter perfectly. Of course, Kristine  
had brought a couple of extras in two different sizes, claiming  
'You never know what can happen. One of the guys could spill  
something on themselves'. Susan was mildly surprised that she  
hadn't brought any extra bridesmaid dresses too. Her cousin was  
a little insane that way; had always been extremely organized.  
Sometimes, it drove Susan nuts. But she realized that in a way,  
she was envious of Kristine's natural efficiency. No matter how  
hard she tried to put her life in order, things never seemed to  
run smoothly for her.  
  
The music started playing and she finally glanced up at John.  
To be honest, she was glad to be strolling down the aisle with him,  
as opposed to Malcolm. Her intended partner was a stranger to her;  
a friend of the groom. She at least took comfort in her co-worker's  
familiar presence. Taking his offered arm, they began to move forward.  
Going no further than five steps, her ankle wobbled unsteadily and  
she stumbled. She managed to remain on her feet with John's help.  
  
"Easy, there," he said softly.  
  
"It's these damned shoes," she groaned. "If I fall flat on my face,  
you better not laugh."  
  
Despite her warning, he chuckled lightly. "Just hang on to me.  
I won't let you fall."  
  
She made it to the front of the chapel without further incident.  
In fact, the rest of the ceremony proceeded beautifully. In what  
seemed like a blink, it was all over. As the guests began to  
slowly make their way to the reception area, the wedding party  
stayed behind for picture taking. There weren't many suitable  
outdoor settings in Chicago in mid-February, so it would be done here.  
  
Susan hugged Kristine and extended her congratulations to the  
new husband. She'd only met Tony on one previous occasion but she  
sensed that he was a good man. While her cousin's hyper personality  
reminded her of her sister, Kristine had always had a good head on  
her shoulders. Unlike Chloe, she'd never gotten herself into trouble.  
Well, not any serious trouble, anyway. In contrast, Tony was quiet  
and had a calming influence on Kristine. They were a good match  
together.  
  
After talking with them briefly, Susan returned to John's side.  
He raised one questioning eyebrow. "Well?" he asked.  
  
"Yes, she wants you in the picture. She's planning to have each  
pair of bridesmaid and groomsman standing together, so I can't be  
the oddball with no partner," she reported.  
  
"All right. I just saw a guy running out of here like a madman.  
Any idea what that's about?"  
  
"Yeah, he's the photographer. He forgot something in his car."  
She paused in her explanation when he suddenly burst out with  
laughter, shaking his head. "What? What's so funny?"  
  
He took a moment to compose himself, grinning. "I was just thinking  
how strange this all is. I'm going to be in this wedding picture  
and people will be pointing at me, saying, 'Who the heck is this guy?'"  
  
She had to laugh along with him. "That's true. But you've made  
Kris very happy, so you've done a good thing."  
  
"I've never had a Valentine's Day quite like this. But I tell you,  
it sure beats the one..." His voice faded and for a moment, he seemed  
lost in the past. "Well, I don't want to get into it now but let's  
just say, I'm glad to be making new memories about this day."  
  
She knew he must be referring to his stabbing attack two years ago.  
This was the first time she'd heard him speak about it. Although  
she was tempted to probe him about it further, this wasn't the  
time or the place. "I hope you don't feel dragged into all of this.  
All I wanted from you was a quick dance lesson. I never thought  
you'd become part of the wedding."  
  
He smiled and rubbed her arm in a reassuring way. "I know. And really,  
I'm glad to be here. This was my choice, remember? You tried to get  
me out of it." An expression of uncertainty flickered across his face.  
"Actually, um, I was wondering if I made you uncomfortable by doing  
this."  
  
She reached up to twirl a loose tendril of hair, in a guise of innocence.  
"Me? Why would you think that?"  
  
"Well, when Kristine was asking me to be a groomsman, you were giving  
me a look. But maybe it was just my imagination," he added quickly.  
  
She breathed a sigh, glancing away. "No, you're right," she said  
truthfully. "You...you have this way of seeing right through me,  
Carter. I can't hide anything from you. That's part of the reason  
why I've been keeping my distance from you since I've been back."  
  
"You've got something to hide?" he asked, his tone mild.  
  
"No deep dark secrets, if that's what you mean. I just...I try to  
be the competent professional at work. I want people to think I'm  
in complete control of everything. And as a doctor, I have every  
confidence in myself. In my personal life, though, I'm not so  
sure of myself. You know what I mean?" Why in the world she was  
being so open with him now, she didn't know. She hoped she didn't  
sound like an insecure neurotic  
  
To her surprise, he nodded at her with a look of complete understanding.  
"I'm the same way. I know exactly what you mean."  
  
"You do?"  
  
"Sure I do."  
  
"And I guess you're right that in a way, I didn't want you to be part  
of this wedding," she continued. "My family can be a little, um,  
dysfunctional sometimes and I didn't want you to see that part of  
my life."  
  
He barked a short laugh and gave her a wry smile. "You don't have to  
tell me about dysfunctional families. I can write a book on it."  
  
"We make quite the pair, then, don't we?"  
  
"I guess we do."  
  
The current of understanding flowing between them was disrupted when  
the photographer finally returned with his missing equipment.  
Although it was a little unusual, the men and women were paired  
off as couples, with two sets on either side of the bride and groom.  
He took quite a few shots and then announced that he'd be taking  
more casual pictures that were meant to be funny. At one point  
he asked them to make faces at the camera and in another shot,  
they stood with strange and angular poses.  
  
"Okay, this is the last one," he called out. "On three, I want  
the guys to dip the ladies and give them a kiss. Ready?"  
  
Susan shared a glance with John. "Haven't we done this move already?"  
she asked.  
  
He shrugged, his lips curling with humour. "This one's for posterity."  
  
Unable to tear her gaze away from his engaging eyes, she didn't  
even hear the count. But in seconds, she found her world tipping,  
just as it had in the doctor's lounge. Her sense of touch seemed  
to come alive with an acute awareness. The warmth of his hands  
supporting her back. The softness of his hair as she reached up  
to caress the nape of his neck. The heat of his lips as they  
settled over her mouth. Heavenly.  
  
She lost all sense of time but far too soon for her liking, the contact  
was broken and her lips felt nothing but cool air. Opening her eyes,  
she realized she was standing upright again. She stared at him,  
trying to steady her heartbeat.  
  
"Maybe it's a good thing we didn't try that last part in the lounge,"  
he joked.  
  
"Yes, well," she stammered, suddenly feeling awkward.  
  
"Susan, will you have dinner with me tomorrow night?"  
  
Her mouth parted but no sound emerged, her mind racing. She was an  
Attending but he was no longer a student. That wasn't against policy,  
was it? "Yes, I'd like that," she found herself saying. For several  
seconds, they stood motionless, smiling at each other in wonder.  
Feeling a slight twinge in her ankle, she grimaced. "Stand just like  
that," she instructed, supporting herself with one hand on his shoulder.  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
"Taking these shoes off. I don't care if I have to dance in bare  
feet. I can't stand these things anymore."  
  
"I think a woman in bare feet is really sexy."  
  
She resisted the urge to laugh. "Careful, Carter. I happened to  
overhear you telling Malucci that he looked sexy in red tights.  
That's quite a fetish you've got going. Now, come on. I'm starving."  
Grabbing his hand, she pulled him in the direction of the reception  
hall, taking the time to mentally recite a quick prayer of thanks for  
not knowing how to waltz.  
  
THE END 


End file.
